


Hand of Snow

by modbelle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A running dirty commentary, All Jon wants is a moment's peace!, Brothers have issues, F/M, Jaime is a Troll Lion, M/M, Multi, On LJ and looking for a vacation home, Ships exist in Jaime's head- who knows about reality?, Why is it always Jaime?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modbelle/pseuds/modbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt (loosly based on): Jon can't take it anymore between Sam and Gilly's clumsy attempts, the blacksmith talking filthy to his baby sister, prim and proper Sansa riding the kingslayer and even ghost and nymeria going at it, he's had enough damn it! he wants some action too but all he has is his hand. </p>
<p>Aka that Jaime trolling fic.  Jaime catches Jon taking care of matters and trolls him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand of Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, all characters belong to HBO and George R.R. Martin.  
> Repost from lj: [asoiafkinkmeme](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/)  
> Spoilers through A Game of Thrones Season One/Book One.

“I’d offer to lend you a hand, but when you only have one, you don’t just give it away,” Jaime muses at the flushed form of Jon Snow. Caught. He caught pure Jon Snow with his hand down his pants quite literally. _More like dirty snow._ Jon’s hand stills and the horrified expression on his face is too good. “Go away,” Jon tells him sullenly. Then again the Starks are a sullen lot, and he has none of that redheaded Tully blood warming him up to personable. Best of all, Jon seemed too far gone even to stop for long. He could feel a rather magnificent smirk coming on. This was too good. _Can you see this moment, Ned? I hope you can._

“Still not gone,” says Jamie, feeling a bit of satisfaction as he sees Jon jump at the sound of his voice. No Jon, he has no plans on leaving. Jaime watches Jon eye his own erection in despair; obviously wishing it away at least enough to slid in his pants and finish somewhere else. _So much for Stark control._ Jon’s squeezing his cock a little too hard for comfort, while Jaime locates and makes himself comfortable against a tree facing him. _What a nice public rendezvous._ “Ouch. Painful, but that’s still not going to make it deflate. I bet wherever you go right now, I’d have no trouble keeping up, what with your condition and all. But do try. I find the idea of you hobbling a few paces and getting caught by even more passersby vastly amusing,” declares Jaime.

“This is no concern of yours,” retorts Jon Snow. _Oh Starks, must they always sound so strong?_

“Awww but I’ve taken an interest nonetheless. It must be obvious, even to you, that I have no intention of leaving. Do you want to get on with it?” Jaime asks waving at Jon’s erection. “Or do you want to continue denying the inevitable and give me a longer view of your cock?”

The hand on Jon’s cock loosens, and pumping slowly begins, “Damn you.”

“Such language,” Jaime tsks. “Tell me, is it all the sex going around in general that you find so arousing? Is it the couples’ activities? Rather, if it was Sam and Gilly’s super sweet love, shouldn’t you be drunk? Moping about how no one loves a bastard…or at least Ned Stark’s bastard. Sam is willing raise Gilly’s after all. Not seeking the friction of your hand. Or is that it? Your hand is the only one that loves you.”

Jaime doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, not with the glower gracing Jon’s face. _This is going to be even more fun than I originally thought._ “No?” trying for innocent Jaime asks and knowing the smirk gives him away. “How about your sister Sansa and me? Hmmm? Just between us, we like to role-play. Sansa particularly likes playing Knights and Maidens. I have to rescue her from a tower room, a lake, catch her as she flees from a monster, and then lay her down and claim her maidenhood. She’ll scream out all my great accomplishments between thrusts; such a memory for details your sister has. Sometimes she saves me. Singing a song to make my cold heart, like that hand of yours, beat again. It’s a shame there are no tourneys around here. Crowning her queen of love and beauty would likely shatter even my imaginings; and trust me, Jon Snow, when I say they are vivid.”

The boy’s movements have picked up now, and at least he’s no longer making feeble attempts to send him away. Probably because he’s too busy trying not to make sounds if the bitten lip was any indicator. That wouldn’t do. He was going to thaw Jon out, not let him hid behind some ice shred of dignity. “Let’s not forget Arya and the bull. So shameless having sex where anyone can see them. My favorite was the time I saw them in the forge; him rubbing his dirty hands, from soot not cock like yours, all over Arya’s tight body. She didn’t stop when she saw me either, family trait perhaps. Instead she stared at me with those dark eyes, and it felt like I was a part. I left of course, right after he came, because something tells me that he wouldn’t be nearly as welcoming as your sister.”

There’s a string of moans and blood bubbling on Jon’s lips and dribbling down his chin. It feels like victory. “Oh somebody likes that description. I agree they are very hot together. I have Sansa to relieve the tension of their trysts. Sometimes Sansa and I even play Blacksmith and the Wild Sister. I’d tell you the rules but you need more than a hand to participate. Tell me truthfully, Snow, who is it you are envisioning right now? You have been at the Night Watch an extensive enough time to find men attractive. The blacksmith? His big, brawny body. Do you long to feel his fury?” In Jaime’s head, he pictures the blacksmith flexing his muscles saying the House of Baratheon’s inane motto, “Ours is the fury.” His laughter catches him off guard before he can check it, and it feels so good. So good to laugh and smile something genuine. But the image doesn’t last, and Robert replaces Gendry. _“I brought the fury,” Robert told a whore on his lap, one hand on his flagon and the other fondling her breast, “tell her Kingslayer, tell her how magnificent I was. I killed that boar like it was nothing.”_ It’s all Jaime can do to keep the smile from slipping from his face, too bright now and far too many teeth to be real. _Kings, they always steal my smile._

“I assure you I am flattered if it’s me. You wouldn’t be the first. Renley’s ghost can attest to that for sure. I am exceptionally handsome after all and every inch a golden lion,” purrs Jaime, making his eyes as cat-like and predatory as possible. It’s then Jaime takes a critical look over at Jon’s cock, he feels like it’s lost some of its earlier enthusiasm. Oh Jon’s still pumping away. Still moaning out loud, but that seems more of a reaction for being too far gone to stop. Not his words. Not the image of him. Possibly Jon wasn’t too interested in the blacksmith either. He was too busy dealing with Robert to notice properly. _Stark men always did consider themselves too good for me._ Jaime knows how Jon’s cock feels; he’s losing his like for the game now too. But he won’t stop until he reaches the end.

“Still, I won’t lend you a hand. Is it a sister? I can understand sisters.” There’s guilt. Guilt in Jon’s sudden pale face, the way his head ducks down, and his thumb races over the leaking head of his cock. Jaime can’t describe how he knows, he just knows Jon is both begging for him to shut up and tell more. More details about his sisters; details where other men aren’t involved. Jon is into the game Jaime no longer wants to play. There’s nowhere but onward to go. So Jaime clenches his teeth in a smile that should shatter and continues, “Sansa’s red hair really does look beautiful against the snow, the white snow, not the bastard Snow. Do you imagine laying her down in it and kissing her fire-blessed hair everywhere? Are you the bear licking at the maiden’s honey pot?” The bastard’s eyes are shut, and the groans are more like grunts, with his other hand gripping the snow for support. _A hairsbreadth away from falling over the edge,_ Jaime thinks, _One more push and Jon will stain the snow._

“Or do you imagine Arya pouncing on you? ‘We are wolves,’ she says. You take her from behind. Marking and biting each other, while she screams out ‘brother’ over and over again. Rutting together like those wolves of yours. Maybe Ghost will get a litter on Nymeria one of these days.” It’s game over. Jon’s stuffing his extra fist in his mouth, and biting down so hard that he may very well need new gloves afterwards. Jaime can’t hear the muffled name. He already knows it would be Sansa, Arya, or both. Jon would mean both sisters even if he managed to keep one name choked down. Still Jaime would have liked a confirmation. But this stopped being about what Jaime liked awhile ago.

Jaime waits and waits for the tremors in Jon’s body to stop. When Jon seems enough together to start tucking himself back into his breeches, Jaime springs like the lion he is. Yanking Jon by the furs, Jaime pulls him close, and meets his cold Stark eyes. Baring his teeth, Jaime whispers, “I’ve been the brother pushed aside for the man. I won’t be the man pushed aside for the brother. So you can stay here with your cock and your two hands, because I will go to war over sisters’ cunts.” Shoves the bastard back into the snow, and rises with all the dignity befitting a Lannister. _It’s time to remind Sansa how well I can make her moan._


End file.
